


Without Purpose (Rewrite)

by conventionalweapons (aconventionalweapon)



Series: Growing Up Killjoy [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, F/M, M/M, Mpreg, Post Mpreg, Post-Danger Days, killjoys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconventionalweapon/pseuds/conventionalweapons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In what is essentially a post apocalyptic world, BL/ind has all but completely taken over after the loss of the Killjoys' leader. Without Party Poison, they fell hard and fast, for what is there to fight for when the one believed to be invincible falls. They have all gone underground or perished at the hands of Korse, who somehow survived the explosion, and his Draculoids. As the deserts grow quieter, the cities are turning black and white. </p><p>Meanwhile, a young boy caught in the center of this ashen world around him discovers that maybe not all hope is lost. Maybe, just maybe he'll give them a reason to start believing again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO DEFINITELY UNEXPECTED! Please read that first or none of this will make sense lol

_The world has changed. Skies darkened and deserts grew ever quieter. Battle cries reduced to mere whispers, murmurings of days gone by. The once loud echoes of war disappeared, the blowing wind that carried the sound became stagnant air. Bright flashes of lasers, dancing through the night, are only remembered by scorch marks left behind, even those are being buried by the sand. The previously defiant have become the most subdued. Eyes that burned bright became blind and hearts that beat strong grew weak. The desert heroes disappeared. There is no fight left in the world, only submission. BL/ind is no longer an industry, it is an empire. An empire that has conquered the towns, the cities, several states, and now their sights are set on the nation. The world is turning black and white with little hope for color. Nothing remains the same._

**LAS VEGAS, NEVADA: 8 YEARS AFTER DOOMSDAY**

A child is running down the sidewalk, desperately trying to make it to the bus stop around the corner before he misses it yet again. Already having missed the first three times the bland black and white vehicle stopped, he would not miss it again. He COULDN'T miss it again, his forearm was still bruised from the reprimanding as a result of yesterday's tardiness. The young boy's black hair flew back as he ran faster and faster, seeing the vehicle stop ahead and begin loading up its dully dressed passengers. His feet pounded against the asphalt, starting to ache as they hit the concrete harder and harder, carrying him to the front of the bus just in time to stick his arm through the closing doors and trip the sensors. "Mean old, Martin," as the children called him, huffed at him in disdain as he reluctantly waited for the child to board and the doors to swing shut behind him. 

"Thanks, Mr. Martin..." The child whispered as he made his way past the grumpy, wrinkled, old man, whose white suit was stretched tight around his impressive gut. 

"Won't happen again runt." Martin growled as he swung the bus out in to the gridlock, joining the stream of vehicles headed towards the center of the city. The chattering of other children on the bus grew quieter as the gas guzzler made its way further in. Skyscrapers reached up to the heavens, the very tips of them touching the storm clouds high above. The glass buildings had recently replaced half of Las Vegas, rising up from the wreckage of older ones that were deemed useless by the new government. Huge screens hung off the sides of each, displaying the same smiling black face on a white background, the logo for the new paradigm. The same face took up residence on the boy's uniform, sitting on the left side of his chest. All of the young people riding the bus wore this same uniform, none were different. Backpacks, uniforms, including shoes and socks, and hair style were all mandated by the school. The girls' outfits were the same as the boys, just slightly more tailored. Their hair was to be pulled back in to a tight pony tail, and if you had curly hair it was to be straightened immediately. The boys could not let their hair touch their shoulders and eyes must be visible at all times. There would be no individuality amongst them. The young boy's hair was nearing his shoulders and would have to be cut before the end of the week to avoid yet another run in with the principal, a man you wanted to avoid at all costs. 

As the bus slowed to a stop behind a long, perfectly straight line of other identical vehicles, the children stood up and in an orderly fashion exited out on to the sidewalk. Standing still in an equally perfect line until their instructor collected them. The school rose above the children as they grew closer, yet the school's flag rose ever higher. The young boy clenched his hands in to tight fists and took a deep breath as they stepped through the doors in to the building. 

The walls inside were just as ghost white as the outside, the doors were deep black in color and the lockers matched them. Instructors led their lines of students to their individual classrooms, doors all shutting at almost exactly the same time. The boy was always last in line and he'd purposely let his foot linger to bump the door, resulting in a satisfactory late shut. In the back of each classroom was an enforcer as the instructors called them. They wore white tailored suits, with a black belt around their waists. Their masks were the only items of clothing in the entire city that had any splash of color on them. The big gaping red mouths, displayed the white fangs of the mask perfectly, the dark pits of their eyes bore right through you. They were meant to intimidate the children, yet the boy managed to find them funny somehow. The hair of the mask sticking straight up in to the air and the bushy eyebrows detracting from those ink pool eyes, it was almost comical. 

Dangerous, they were absolutely dangerous though. They held the only guns in the entire city and on occasion would find a reason to remind you of that. Vastly improved over the previous models, the white hot lasers they shot out would surely kill you if they hit their mark, seeing as they basically aimed themselves with their new targeting software. Admittedly, the older models would do the job as well but they were were completely manual. At least, this is what the children were taught in their lessons. 

"ELLIOT!" The young boy's head whipped around at the mention of his name, his eyes grew wide in fear. "Would you like to repeat to me what I've just said?" He gulped, his body already bracing itself for the punishment the instructor would no doubt deliver after class. "Well?" Her beady eyes seemed to burn holes in his. Reluctantly, Elliot shook his head "no" and his fists clenched as tears began to bead up. "See me after class." She growled and continued on with her lessons. Elliot took down every note he could, for fear she'd question him about it later and he wouldn't be able to prove he'd learned anything. His instructor was known to be the cruelest one at the entire school. She had a reputation for turning kids arms black and blue, and sadly it was completely legal. Ms. Loren loved it. 

Government, Economics, and Humanities were Elliot's least favorite lessons of the day. He hated listening to Ms. Loren ramble on and on about the government, how important it was that they uphold the laws laid down by their leaders and his mind was too spacey to pay attention to any sort of reading. Elliot's eyes would often glass over as his mind drifted off, transporting himself mentally out in to the middle of the desert. His imagination would always take him to this dilapidated diner that appeared to be slowly sinking in the sand. The diner's walls were covered in symbols and words that he could never make out, but was fascinated by even still due to their bright colors. He often imagined what it would be like to live in this diner, to sleep on one of its torn up benches and how he would have food and water managed, but the real world would always come crashing back when the teacher slapped her ruler across his hands.

Elliot yelped loudly as his hands were lashed. Ms. Loren was enraged, her eyes burned with anger towards the child. "TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE!" All the other children were staring at him, fear and sorrow for the boy written across their faces. Well most of them, a select few were grinning at the prospect of watching a good display later on. Elliot was frozen in his seat until the enforcer from the back of the room came up and gripped his shirt, yanking him up out of the chair. 

"Grab your bag." The enforcer snarled, giving Elliot's shirt just enough slack that he could reach down and grab his pack and cram all of his schoolwork in to it before getting dragged out of the room. The enforcer was silent as he pulled Elliot down the hallway towards the dreaded Principal's Office. The boy's heart pounded faster and faster with each passing moment, images of bruises up and down his arms and chest flickered in to his mind. He feared he would be put on display in front of the school as they beat him, a public reminder of what happens when you don't follow the rules. They stopped in front of the door while the white suit clad, masked man knocked on the door and waited for a response. When no sound came from inside the room, the enforcer let go of Elliot and moved his now free hand to rest on the handle of his gun. The boy gulped in fear, afraid that since the Principal hadn't answered, this enforcer was now going to take matters in to his own hands and kill him. "Do not move." The man growled from under the mask as he reached for the door and yanked it open. 

The room was pitch black, the blinds on the windows were all tightly shut, it was even scarier than when the lights were on, which is saying something. The enforcer leaned inside, taking a hesitant step forward while drawing his ray gun, when suddenly a hand lashed out, grabbed the white coat jacket of the enforcer, and yanked him inside by it, Elliot fell backwards in shock and scrambled in reverse until his back hit the lockers on the opposite wall. He could hear banging and muffled voices, fists were being thrown inside the room for a few minutes before it went completely quiet. Elliot was frozen against the lockers, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets as his heart beat vigorously. Should he run? Where would he go? Back to class to report what had happened? No he couldn't do that, he couldn't because right now he couldn't even move. 

"Come in here, kid." A voice emanated from within the dark room to Elliot's horror. It was deep, gruff voice that he could only imagine belonged to someone big and strong who was capable of taking down an enforcer. Nobody he knew or had ever seen was capable of doing such a thing, especially within the confines of a busy school. "I won't ask again." The voice grumbled and sparked a little bit of life back in to Elliot's legs. Reluctantly, he managed to get to his feet and slowly take a few steps towards the door before the same hand whipped out of the pitch black and grasped the front of his shirt, drawing him forwards.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is much appreciated!

A door shut from behind Elliot, but he assumed he was already halfway in to the room which meant there was more than one being in the dark. His feet stumbled across the carpeted floor, pulled along by the hand that still gripped his shirt tightly. 

"Lock the door please, dear." The gruff voice whispered. Elliot heard the lock on the door click and not a second later the hand relinquished its grasp. A chair squeaked from somewhere in front of him, before a soft blue light slowly illuminated the room. The glow of the computer highlighted the face of a thirty something year old man with an eyepatch over his right eye. The only visible eye was fixated on the young boy. The man's arms were crossed on the desk and for a few awkward moments he remained completely still. A shuffle of feet behind the boy reminded him that there was another person in the small room. He nervously watched as the second being walked past him like a shadow, slowly lit up as they approached the computer's light. Elliot thought these two people looked similar, maybe even related. They both certainly had big bushy heads of hair. 

That's when he realized just how different these two were. Knocking the enforcer out should've been the first clue that they were clearly not residents of Las Vegas, but it was the hair that did it. It wasn't tamed back and tied down like everyone else, it was wild and looked a little bit grimy. Then he noticed their clothes. From what he could see, the man's dark leather jacket had sewn on, brightly colored patches on the left side of his chest and right shoulder.The teenage girl was a bit more visible as she stood up. She had a blue crop top on with red and yellow stripes running vertically down the left side of it. She wore tight fitting grey jeans that were riddled with holes around the knees. Her boots went up to the top of her shins and there was a bottle cap belt around her waist. The garments were all very, very dirty. She had a radio slung across her shoulders and clutched a pair of goggles in her right hand. Elliott's eyes narrowed in on what else was strapped across her waist. A bright, neon orange ray gun was strapped down in a holster on her hip. His heart started to pound even faster. Were they going to kill him?! His eyes flicked back to the man in the chair who was still staring at him.

"What is your name?" He spoke quietly to the boy before him. Elliot was too nervous to even open his mouth. The bushy headed man followed the boy's gaze to his friend's ray gun then asked her nicely to lay her gun as well as his on the floor at the boy's feet. His gaze returned to the young child in front of him, studying him from head to toe. Elliot shuffled backwards a bit as the girl placed the guns next to his feet. She smiled gently at him and then suddenly the room was filled with light. The man had, at some point, stood up and flicked the light switch on before re-taking his seat behind the desk. "We aren't going to hurt you, we just have a few questions." The man's single eye bore in to the boy's.

"I-it's Elliot. Elliot Sharper is my name." He said quietly, so quietly in fact the man had to lean forward just to hear him. The girl was still smiling at the boy, her clothes even more brightly colored than he thought now that the lights were on. 

"Elliot, tell me this. Why were you brought to this office?" The man's fingers laced together on the desk, while the boy's eyes dropped to the floor. The guns lay near his feet still, his imagination pictured them somehow shooting him as they rested on the ground. They were grime covered and pretty beaten up, the designs on them were almost completely rubbed off. He could barely make out the words "because I said so" written on the end of the man's blue ray gun. "Hey, Elliot. We don't have a lot of time." His voice sent chills down the boy's spine for some reason. Fearing for his life, he reluctantly answered.

"I wasn't paying attention in class." He breathed. Shuffling his feet nervously. 

"If that's all, then why the frightened look on your face?" The man knew that gaze all too well, the boy was shaken up by something before even stepping foot in the office. Elliot lifted his hands up and placed them on the edge of the desk in front of him, a bright red mark stretched across them, enflamed slightly from the severity of the smack. The man reached forwards, tenderly grasping the youth's hands and studying them carefully. "They punish you." His eye met the young boy's. "Why? Why does simply losing focus warrant this kind of abuse?" The question was quite serious, Elliot was unsure how to answer. Luckily for him, it was rhetorical. The man stood up from behind the desk, walking around it then kneeling down in front of the adolescent. His eye seemed to study Elliot's every feature. It made him nervous to be close to this man, he had no idea who or what he even was, but now that he was up close he realized something. The man's eye was not as harsh as he thought it was from across the room. It was soft, inviting, and looked like liquid chocolate, needless to say unexpected from a gruff looking man. Scars littered the tanned skin on the adult's forearms and peeked out around the collar of his shirt. His leather coat was a lot more battered up close, torn here and there and dust was a permanent part of its once porous material. 

"Who are you?" Elliot blurted out before he could catch himself, flinching out of instinct, ready to receive a slap for questioning someone older than him. This clearly upset the man as his shoulders sagged slightly, a single tear built up in his eye. 

"This is cruelty. Look what they've done to this young man." The ragged man looked to his female companion, who shook her head in disdain. Their eye contact seemed to last forever, slight shakes and nods of their heads let Elliot know they were having some kind of silent quarrel with one another. The girl looked worriedly at her friend then turned her sights back on to the kid. "Elliot, do you live with anyone?" It was an out of place question, Elliot thought. Why would he be asking who he lived with? Did he want to harm his family? It wasn't their fault! Or maybe it was? 

"My foster family." The boy said mouselike. "Who are you?"

"And does this foster family treat you like this 'school' does?" The man's hands flew up to make little quotation marks in the air. 

"No! They only punish me when-" He paused. Elliot had not thought of it this way. He was punished frequently at home but had never compared what happened there to what happened in class. He'd always thought there was a perfectly good reason his family had to punish him and remind him to behave. But what if there hadn't been a reason at all? What if they were just trying to beat the individuality out of him like the school was? Clearly knowing what the boy was now thinking, the man spoke again. "It isn't normal, kid. Families do not treat each other this way. Teachers should not be allowed to treat students this way. This 'way' is wrong." The man's voice got more aggravated as he kept talking. "Promise me something?" He let out a sigh, looking at the boy from head to toe. "Do not let them run your life. Protect yourself. You are unique, you are special. Don't ever let them make you think otherwise. This isn't how the world is supposed to be." The man stood up, collecting the ray guns at Elliot's feet then looking to his companion again before starting for the door, unlocking it and glancing out in to the hall in either direction. 

"Kid, listen to him. Okay?" The girl smiled down at Elliot, then ruffled his hair gently before walking to the door. "Anything?" The man shook his head no, his wild, bushy hair swaying from side to side. Elliot took note of the back of the man's leather jacket. It had vertical red and white stripes, with a patch of blue and some white stars dotted on it, there was a black spider sprayed on over top of it. The colors alone dazzled him, but the symbol looked vaguely familiar; he couldn't quite place where he'd seen it before. Just as the pair prepared to run down the hallway and vacate the school, Elliot spoke up. 

"Wait!" He yelped at first then quieted his voice when their heads swiveled to look at him. "I just...want to know who you are?" Elliot squeaked out. Looking between each other then back to him, the man drew his blue ray gun up against his chest. 

"109 In The Sky..." The man smirked, then disappeared with his partner, leaving the boy standing there in the office wondering what on Earth just happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Hours turned to days, day to weeks, weeks to months, and so on. It was almost four years later, just after his fifteen birthday, that Elliot would get any sort of clue as to who the two he'd met in the school were. Honestly, he'd almost completely forgotten about that day. It was entirely by accident that he discovered anything about them at all. Firstly, he'd found out that their principal's absence was due to a small riot in a neighboring town, apparently the people there had claimed to see ghosts in the desert, which he was still unsure what that meant, but it was important enough that the principal and former director of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, again whatever that was, had left immediately to see to it. Secondly, there were mentions of a duo roaming through the desert that an old security cam picked up. They were dressed like enforcers but were way too far out to have been part of any of the current deployments. Thirdly, they had been headed in the direction of an old burned down building, one that back in the day had been used by the enemies of BL/ind codenamed "Killjoys." Elliot had learned all of this thanks to his new job as assistant to the aforementioned principal, who had been recently re-instated as lead enforcer at BL/ind headquarters. It was his job now to help the man sort and deliver files to whomever his new boss stated. 

Elliot was just glad that his days were no longer being wasted in the school, he was old enough now to work for the company and after pulling his act together, he was given this job. One of the highest ones a kid fresh out of school could earn. He should've been proud of himself. Elliot had been taught many things in the last four years. He was one of the best shots with a raygun, not really too big of a deal since they had their targeting systems, and had muscled up a bit during training. Elliot had also excelled in all his courses, managing to receive the highest scores on all of his exams after previously being a failure student. He could've become an enforcer, but they had decided his talents were best served apparently delivering files. 

"Elliot Sharper, please report to the Director's office." The intercom called out. Elliot hung his head and sighed heavily, he slowly pushed the file cabinet drawer in the storage room closed and locked it behind him. Slowly standing, he briefly wondered if he could just ignore it but they would probably just send some enforcers to drag him in there anyways. He collected the files he'd set atop the cabinet and tucked them under his arms before making his way to his boss' office on the floor above him. Getting in the elevator, he nodded politely to the other employees who were all nose deep in their own files then clicked the button for floor forty eight. Elliot quickly stepped out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened wide enough and made his way briskly down the hallway towards the large double doors at the end. His boss' private guard stood before the door, hands held behind his back and feet firmly planted shoulder's width apart. This one guard's uniform differed from the rest of the enforcer's. His outfit was morel like a combat suit with its extra laser and fire proof material, thick laser proof padding, and sleek helmet covering his entire face. The biggest difference was that it was black, absolutely solid black. It was quite the intimidating uniform to look at, yet his job was far more serious than the one the enforcer's all had. Elliot couldn't stand to stare at him too long, bowing his head as he approached the doors and the guard stepped aside. Pausing before the big white doors, he took a deep breath to steady his suddenly quivering hands then opened them, stepping through in to the room.

"Ah, Elliot. Please have a seat." The bald headed man was at the window, looking out at the city below. "I trust you brought me the files I asked for?" 

"Yes sir, all the information on desert towns and deserted buildings within two hundred miles of here covering the last fifteen years." Elliot neatly spread the folders out on his boss' desk, turning them so they faced the man's chair.

"Good work. Thank you." The older man paused, his hands swinging behind his back and locking with each other. "Now, Elliot, that is not why I called you in today. It's come to my attention recently that you have been seen looking through some of the files that I've asked you to bring to me in your time working here. Quite frankly, I knew you'd been looking through them already, but I guess my curiosity has finally gotten the better of me. So..." The baldheaded man turned around, folding his arms across his chest. "...why have you been looking through the files?" Elliot froze. Here was this man before him that he'd feared for most of his childhood, staring at him like he'd done something horrible. His arms twitched in reaction to his fear, a side effect from the years of being slapped with a ruler from a person with the very same look in their eyes. "Elliot." The man cleared his throat, his gaze hardening again.

"I...I don't know. I was just curious I swear. I just wanted to know-"

"Know what?" The man moved to his chair behind the desk, his eyes never leaving Elliot's as he walked. His hands gripped the back of his desk chair, squeezing slightly. He almost wanted to strangle the naive youth sitting before him, for daring to do anything but what he was told. Elliot's body shook from fear of the man's gaze. 

"I just wanted t-to know what w-was so important about s-such old i-irrelevant documents." Elliot forced the words through his teeth, flinching when the man's posture went completely rigid and his face turned to a horrible scowl. Just as quickly as it happened though, the glower turned to a smirk and suddenly the man was laughing. Just laughing loudly before Elliot. The sheer sound made the young teen even more nervous than he was before. What did the man find so funny? Or was he just so enraged he couldn't think of anything to do but laugh? 

"Irrelevant? You really thought any of those documents were irrelevant? My dear boy, everything in those documents is so far from irrelevancy. Anything I've ever asked you to bring to my office has a purpose. Just like you have your role in today's society, there is a specific reason every little thing exists as each and every one has their own role to play. Those papers in those folders contain every piece of knowledge needed to keep our company safe and in check." Elliot's boss reached down and pulled a drawer open on the desk, grabbing a nameplate and setting it on the table in front of the young man. "That, was my given name some time ago. I had my place then like I have my place now. New names were given and people accepted their roles as they should. I see to it that every little detail in those files you bring me is checked over and re-checked as many times as it takes." Elliot's boss moved back to the window, but Elliot's eyes remained focused on the nameplate on the table before him. 

He'd seen the name in the files and new what that name was responsible for. Without the owner of said name, which apparently was his boss at one point in time, the new society would never have been formed. This bald man single handedly ended a rebellion just outside the old capital Battery City by apparently blowing up the leader of the rebellion's car with him inside. The other guy never had a chance, at least thats what Korse, the man standing at the window, had said. Every fiber of Elliot's being began to quiver in fear of his boss, someone he thought just had a bad attitude and a supreme sense of pride before now. That pride was apparently well deserved. "Now Elliot, there is something else I wish to ask of you. It has come to my attention that some years ago you were in my office with some...unwelcome...guests." Korse slowly looked over his shoulder at the young man frozen still in the chair, eyes glued to the nameplate sitting before him. "As you may now understand, it's very important that I know what happened that day." He looked the boy over and could see his hands visibly shaking. With a smirk on his face, he moved back to his desk and took a seat directly across from the quivering being before him. "Elliot, you are in no way at fault for what happened that day. In fact, I would like to hear the information you gathered whilst in their company. You see, they are remnants of the rebellion, stray hairs that need to be smoothed out. I know you are a smart and capable young man, maybe one day even capable of taking my place here. So tell me, what did you hear and what did you think about them?" Elliot slowly looked up at the man seated across from him, studying his face for a few moments in an attempt to calm himself, but it only resulted in his heart pounding even faster.

"I-I..." He cleared his throat. "I wasn't sure what to do at first. They were strange. Their clothes were pretty beaten up and had a lot of scars on their skin. The man more so than the girl. They weren't even scared to have been caught in the office. They stayed calm and collected most of the time. The guy though...he got pretty mad when he found out how students were reprimanded. They didn't really say much information wise, just that this city sickened them." Korse's eyes narrowed slightly, obviously displeased with the lack of intel.

"What were they wearing, Elliot. Anything definitive?" The man's intense, dark eyes sharpened. The veins on his hands seemed to inflate as they balled in to fists on his desk. 

"W-well the guy...he had an eyepatch over his right eye. He was wearing an old leather jacket with a few colored patches on it. He had a blue ray gun too...oh and an American flag with a spider on it on his back..." Elliot froze at the look that crossed Korse's face, one of pure unadulterated hatred. It shook him to the core to stare in those suddenly icy cold eyes. 

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning forwards across the desk in quite possibly one of the most intimidating ways. His dark, brooding face only inches away from Elliot's. The teen leaned back out of instinct, his hands gripping the sides of his chair as he gulped and nodded like a bobble head. 

"P-positive...that's wh-what I saw." The man once known as Korse flung himself up out of his chair and paced the room, his hands clawing at his bald scalp. In one swift, violent motion the enraged man cried out and swiped the books off the shelf behind his desk, a commotion that did not go unnoticed by his private guard standing just outside the door. The black suited man opened the door and stepped inside, his hand resting atop his black, holstered raygun. 

"Everything okay in here, sir?" That was the first time Elliot had ever heard the voice of Korse's private guard and he was astounded to hear that it was being modified. It came out mechanically, making the man sound more like a machine than anything. Why on Earth the man needed his voice to be scrambled like that, he wasn't sure but it terrified him nonetheless. 

"EVERYTHING IS FINE! GET OUT!" Korse was infuriated still, pacing the room, each footstep falling harder than the previous. Elliot was sure he could feel even the ground trying to recoil away from the dangerous man's fury. "GET HIM OUT TOO!" The depilated man's long pointer finger stuck out accusingly at Elliot, who stood up immediately and backed a few steps away before hurrying towards the door. The guard grabbed him by the sleeve and pushed him out faster, practically flinging him down the hall before slamming the double doors shut behind them. Elliot wasn't sure why his boss had gone haywire at the mention of the fluffy haired man and his friend, an incident that happened so long ago, but whatever the reason it wasn't good. He had a feeling that he'd just been caught up right in the middle of it. The frightened teen headed down the hall towards his own small desk to wait for the enraged man's next file requests. 

Within Korse's office, a small secret door slowly swung open from the bookcase. A small man emerged carrying a single file in his hands. He slowly approached his pacing boss and nervously held the file out to him.

"S-sir..." Korse's stone cold eyes landed on the man as he stopped pacing, his hands clenched in fists at his sides, veins popping out all over the place. "S-sir, the f-file you requested on Elliot Sharper." The director took a few storming steps towards the little man and snatched the file from him, turning to his desk as the man hurried back in to the secret room behind the bookcase, shutting the door behind him. Korse took a deep breath, steadying himself before opening the file on his assistant. He had a feeling this kid's background wasn't what it seemed, something he'd been questioning since the boy was one of the students at his school. There were no records of any Elliot Sharper being born within the city, just a current residence and supposed family names. The teen's curiosity also worried the director of the enforcers, it wasn't like any child raised in a BL/ind city to be so inquisitive. It was simply not something they tolerated from birth, yet this boy's rebellious tendencies remained. 

Korse scanned the files page by page, reading through numerous documents made by Elliot's teachers during school on how his turn around from failure student to top of his class was remarkable. There were a few accounts of his prowess with a raygun as well, but none of that mattered to the man. He'd secured this document from a much higher up source, one who would no doubt see to his demise if he learned the current location of such a file. Scanning further through, Korse finally found the page he was looking for. Conveniently titled "NEED TO KNOW BASIS ONLY," his eyes skimming down the page until his heart skipped a few beats with a particular piece of knowledge. 

"It can't be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEEDBACK IS MUCH APPRECIATED!

How could this be possible? How could this kid have survived? The little brat was supposed to have been taken care of along with his only remaining parent. Yet here he is, alive and well. "They're going to haunt me forever it seems." Korse growled, standing up and going to the bookcase, treading across all the neatly binded works scattered on the floor. Pushing in on the secret door, it slowly swung open and he ducked his way through the low entrance. There was an entire lab behind the shelving, outfitted with nearly every scientific machine one could imagine. He had gathered the most brilliant minds from different BL/ind cities and employed them here, where they would carry out their unethical experiments in secrecy. One such scientist, Amanda Haynes, had been the one responsible for a certain project that had resulted in young Elliot's birth. 

_It was an idea started by Ms. Haynes years before BL/ind started to become a major company. She was a relatively well off woman married to a handsome, young entrepreneur who was making a big name for himself. Everything was going just the way she'd imagined as a young girl, playing with toys in her backyard. She had her dark haired, blue eyed Prince Charming and her modest castle, a good eight thousand square foot home nestled in the hills, and she could deal with his parents keeping their distance, but the one thing that escaped her was her fairy tale child. Amanda was not able to conceive. It was a devastating blow, but being the strong willed scientist she was, there had to be a way to fix their situation. She found it. Since she herself could not conceive, maybe she could modify the male body slightly to conceive and carry a biological child and fulfill her childhood dream. Not so surprisingly though, when her handsome young husband learned of her intentions, he bailed out of the marriage, declaring she was insane._

_Everything fell apart for Ms. Haynes and she found herself just barely scraping by after her colleagues learned of her unethical intentions. That's when BL/ind stepped in, or rather Korse. The then younger and well built man told the beautiful young lady that he saw the potential in her research and made an offer to fund it so long as she was willing to work for the company and oversee other projects as well. Out of sheer determination, she agreed to work for the company and began her research again from scratch._

_There were many unfortunate road blocks along the way. A lot was involved in changing the structure of a man's internal organs, not to mention the fact that they had to force his body to grow a uterus, fallopian tubes, and ovaries. More than a few times the body rejected the new organs and quite often the test subject would die. Once she got the body to stop rejecting the new organs, then the focus turned to getting those to properly function. Sadly, there were quite a few failed pregnancies amongst her test subjects, prisoners that had been "donated" to the cause, most only lasting a few weeks before being aborted by the man's body. Amanda was again devastated, coming to the conclusion that it was merely not meant to be. A few other scientists were brought in on the project and finally they discovered the issue they were having, pelvic inflammatory disease was running rampant. The men's newly grown uteruses were getting infected due to their weak nature. They simply weren't as strong as a woman's uterus and the disease was easily contracted. Not only would it damage the uterus, but it would spread quickly to the fallopian tubes creating large abscesses that would then rupture and damage them permanently. The diseased uterus would quickly kill any fetus growing within. Working hard on the issue, the scientists came up with a drug, similar to Penicillin, that once injected in to the vein, would attack any forming diseases and remain within the person's body for the remainder of his life. With that issue out of the way and one successful pregnancy later, Ms. Haynes was again approached by Korse._

_The man came to her late one night and announced he had another patient for Amanda to perform her test on, one that might make her quite happy. Confused as she was, she agreed and was led in to her lab to find a very familiar face strapped down to the table. It was her ex-husband of all people in the world and nothing could wipe the smile from her face as she drug her fingers down his perfectly toned chest and abdomen. She would finally have her dream child with the man whom she still believed to be her knight in shining armor, a rather unwilling knight. A few weeks later he was prepared to be artificially inseminated with his own semen and an egg from Amanda, one of the few her body had been able to produce that was put on ice years ago. It was a success. Nine months later he gave birth via c-section to a very healthy baby boy with hair as dark as night and eyes as blue as the sea, a spitting image of his father. Ms. Haynes was ecstatic, but her joy was short lived. Her ex-husband had grown attached to the little baby boy as he grew within him and the moment he got the opportunity, he stole the little babe away and wasn't seen again for quite some time. Amanda had tried to go after him and reclaim what she believed to be hers, but Korse stopped her. He ensured the distraught woman that the man would return, revealing to her that he was the man's father. The father she'd never met. His reasoning, when questioned about why he encouraged the testing on his son, was that the boy would never see true responsibility or amount to anything, so he wanted a grandson who could fill the shoes his father never could. A biological grandson was a must and seeing as how Korse's son had lost interest in women, he saw the experiment as his last resort._

Amanda's gaze turned to Korse as he entered the private lab from his office. The angry looking man waved her over and she practically sprinted to his side. 

"Sir?" Her voice was mousey, her right hand at her side was tugging at a loose string on her lab coat in nervousness. Korse gripped her shoulder and held the file out in front of them both.

"It seems some of your handiwork has come back to haunt us." He growled, shoving the file in to her hands before taking a few steps away, locking his hands behind his back to prevent himself from knocking anything else over. Ms. Haynes opened the file, flipping through to the last page before letting out a shocked gasp.

"Well, how about that. Iero conceived naturally! After all those problems we had with him. This is amazing! I can't believe this happened! Why did nobody ever tell me about this? How remark-" Amanda froze in horror when she discovered that Korse was glaring down at her, now only a foot away again, eyes piercing her soul. "I-I m-mean..."

"The kid is my assistant." Amanda's eyes went wide as she stared at the man, vaguely recalling meeting his assistant one time before in his office but only briefly as he dropped the requested files and left. He was an average height boy with dark hair, hazel colored eyes, relatively skinny but for the most part muscular, and extremely bright for his age. How interesting that he was a result of two prominent figure heads amongst the Killjoys. "Elliot Sharper has been inside a BL/ind city for years and I'm only now finding out who he is. He was supposed to have been killed as an infant along with his father. At least, that's what I was told. It's a problem Amanda. A problem like my son was and my grandson still is." Ms. Haynes looked down at the mention of her former prince and her estranged son. Her little fairytale child that never met her expectations and her now deceased ex-partner. "That brat of yours is still out there destroying our manufacturing facilities whenever he can get his grimy little hands on information about them." A flicker of anger spread across Amanda's face as her former father-in-law showed his disdain for her child. She quickly looked down though afraid to show her dislike of the man. "Back to the point. Elliot is an issue that needs resolving."

"Or is he a tool that needs using?" The mechanical voice spoke up from behind Korse, who turned to find his private guard standing inside the lab now, arms folded across his chest. Fury rose up inside him at his guard's unauthorized entrance in to the lab. 

"And who exactly told you that you could come in here, let alone leave your post? I do believe I KICKED. YOU. OUT." Korse snarled as he took a few steps towards the man, balling his fists, but his guard remained undeterred, the only sign of movement was the sudden position of his hand on the hilt of his sleek black gun. "How dare you even think to pull your gun on-"

"I may be your private guard," his mechanized voice growled out, "but you do remember who assigned me to you." The gloved hand shot out, digging the pointer finger in to Korse's chest. "He sent me a message saying some very private files went missing and that a certain scientist," the helmet turned so the closed visor faced the short little scientist, now cowering behind his equipment, before turning back to Korse, "had been caught on camera taking them." The bald man took a few steps back away from the accusing finger trying to put a hole through his chest, glaring sideways at his dimwitted thief as he did. There were so many ways he could see this going and none of them were good, but the black suited man remained motionless where he stood. "You're lucky. He's actually kind of glad you know now." The man walked forward and started around Korse, circling him like a shark. "Think hard, you have THE Fun Ghoul's son in your possession, can you even see the possibilities here? Or has the great Korse lost his touch?" If the bald man could see the black guard's face, there would most likely be a grin from ear to ear. "Here, let me help you. Imagine it. A slip of the tongue to a random Killjoy out in desert and the news will spread like wildfire. He'll know within days and do you think he'll sit idly by with the knowledge that his son is alive? Or do you think he'll come for him?" The man paused for a brief moment, thinking something over briefly before resuming. "No, actually, come to think of it he's probably gotten smart and stopped trusting everyone or...he'd probably just send out his little lackey Kobra Kid to do it for him. He hasn't come out of hiding since his precious boyfriend was...well...taken care of and I doubt that'd would change. Soooo, here's a better thought for that brain of yours to ponder, what if you sent the kid to him? Send him out with the instruction to keep his name and face hidden, let him work his way to finding Ghoul. Let them figure it out on their own and by the time they do, a convenient little tracker planted on the boy will have led us right to him. They'll find each other again just to lose each other for good. We'll have hopefully not one but two of the MOST wanted 'joys in custody and the boy, well, he's disposable or maybe even useful depending where his loyalties lie at the time." The gloves clapped together in finality before the man stopped circling his prey. "Think that over for a while, I'm sure the boss might appreciate your SLIGHT amount of effort." With that, the suit clad man retreated from the lab, leaving everyone's hearts at a standstill. Korse included. 

**SHEEPHOLE VALLEY, CALIFORNIA: 9 YEARS AFTER DOOMSDAY**

It was quiet. Elliot had never heard such silence before. There was absolutely no wind, no cars or people bustling about, no machines beeping in an office, and no BL/ind commercials running back to back on a city center screen. It was a complete and utter wasteland before him. The idea of just walking out in to the middle of this empty desert in no particular direction was daunting. Korse had thrown together a pack with some basic provisions - and shit, was it the most unhelpful sack of crap he'd ever seen- and otherwise gave no direction to the boy besides just telling him to take the first step and keep walking southwest towards a former Killjoy hot spot. Apparently the location had some sort of sentiment for their targets, it was immediately deemed a good starting point in their endeavor to exterminate the remainder of the resistance. Why Elliot was the one thrown out in to the sweltering heat, he had no idea, but here he was already feeling the need to shuck his boots and dump the pile of sand that had already begun to build up inside them. 

Clad head to toe in black leather, Elliot could already feel every inch of his skin getting coated in thick sweat, acting like lube between his flesh and the stiff material. There was a serious lack of ventilation in the outfit and he briefly wondered just how long he'd be able to stand the layers before starting to shrug them all off. His survival training over the past year had taught him that protecting his skin from the sun was more important than comfort, but his mind wanted to scream out that he'd die from the dizzying heat before he'd ever get the chance to actually fry his skin. The thick, heavy boots sunk further in to the sand with each step, his legs already getting tired from fighting the evil stuff after only a mile of walking. He kept glancing back behind him as if waiting for the black Pantera to return, trailing a whirlwind of dust behind it with Korse stepping out and saying this was all some sick joke he played on his employees at some point. Elliot new better than that, unfortunately. The bald headed man would love to probably just leave the him out here and come and kick at his decaying corpse in a few weeks just for fun. 

After walking for what seemed like forever, there was suddenly a change in the landscape as a lone ridge rose from the ground not too far off from where Elliot was trudging through the desert, little puffs of dirt rising behind each boot as he moved along. The rocky formation looming up out of the sand appeared to have little pockets here and there where the shade seemed to gather, as if even it wanted to hide from the sun itself. Shade would be good for a little rest, a few sips of water, and maybe a few seconds of shut eye before he moved on again. Elliot's body had toned up quite a bit during his extensive training for this mission, but being in an air conditioned, tile floored room was a far cry from the barren desert landscape surrounding him now. The sun literally felt like it was trying to claw its way through the leather encasing him, trying to reach its desperate little fingers to his skin where it could burn and boil the flesh to its great desire. Elliot could almost imagine the tentacle like extensions reaching down from the big fiery ball to grasp at him. The sun was evil like that. Clouds had always encased the sky above the BL/ind cities, at least over Las Vegas they did. He wondered briefly why the sun really did barely ever shine there, but quickly decided that they'd probably manufactured some cloud machine and forgotten to tell anyone. They made a lot of weird inventions in that city, it wasn't a far flung idea to control the clouds. With an exasperated sigh he kept moving along. 

The ridge seemed to be moving further and further away as he drug his feet through the sand, his pack half falling off his shoulders. It wasn't fair. How come the ridge got to keep all it's shade to itself? Why couldn't it just stay put and share with him? Then he realized just how muddled his brain had become over the last hour. Heat exhaustion was starting to hit him hard. The sun had begun its descent about a half an hour before, but it's fiery fingers still clung to anything they could as the body of it sunk slowly below the horizon. The temperatures hadn't moved at all though like he'd hoped for. Elliot kept on moving as much as his tired legs could, each boot getting heavier and heavier as they collected sand along the way.  
Finally the little grains of sand started to grow in to rocks, then boulders as he approached the ridge at last. The landscape was dark all around, the cacti only barely illuminated by the moon, seemed to reach their arms higher to the sky as if they too wanted to leave the hot sand they grew up around. Finding a small cave nestled in the side of the ridge, Elliot pulled out the small flashlight he had and scoped it out for any slithering or skittering critters before laying down his pack and collapsing next to it. He couldn't move for an hour until his body slowly started to cool off and he decided he was safe enough remove some of his garments. The boots were flung at the back of the cave as quickly as possible, flinging sand all over the place as they flew through the air. Elliot's feet were red and raw from rubbing against the sand in his boot all day, blisters forming all over them. His sunglasses were gently laid on the pack, wanting to preserve those more than anything to protect his eyes for as long as he could. Then came the mask, a thick leathery thing that covered everything from the eyes down, attaching itself to the top of his jacket all the way around his neck with a series of snaps and zippers. Once that was off, the jacket and undershirt quickly followed suit, all landing in a big heap of pungent, sweat induced stickiness on top of the boots. The air finally started to cool around him, allowing him to take a full deep breath and relax, resting his head on his bag. 

Lying there under the stars in the mouth of the shallow cave, Elliot couldn't help but be awed by their beauty. Sparkling up there, dotting the inky black sky as far as the eye could see. Those long dead suns, flickering in the vast expanse of sky, still reaching out and eager for someone to still gaze upon them. There was nothing like this in Las Vegas, nothing quite so spectacular for sure. When the clouds would occasionally separate enough to form foggy looking gaps, there would only be a few of the twinkling balls of fire visible through the haze. This was something else entirely. He couldn't sleep now, not while he was able to see so many of them with such an unimpeded view. Maybe being out here wouldn't be so bad after all. A coyote howled in the distance, a forlorn sound that sent a shiver down his spine. Then again, maybe it would be a lot worse.


End file.
